


i hear voices

by stray_dog_sick



Category: I Don't Know How But They Found Me (Band), Waterparks (Band)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Entertainment Tour, Gen, Past Abuse, i promise i like awsten he just has chaotic energy, this is a fuck ronnie radke zone though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-04 23:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18354398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stray_dog_sick/pseuds/stray_dog_sick
Summary: He gasped as the beat dropped, his body forcing him to stop holding his breath. He struggled to keep himself from hyperventilating as his chest tightened, the rushing in his ears almost - but not quite - drowning out the music.





	i hear voices

**Author's Note:**

> this one is for bea thanks for letting me yell at you about it so much!
> 
> title is from 'absinthe' by i don't know how but they found me

Ryan didn’t know who'd given Awsten control over the music, but he hated them right now. Every song on the playlist was either a meme or a song that Awsten knew would rile up someone else on the bus. From the yelling, he could tell it included all of Otto and Geoff’s least favourite songs. ‘All The Boys’ had even played at some point, for Christ’s sake.

“Hey Ryan, this one’s for you!” Awsten called from across the dressing room during the brief pause between tracks. “So why do good girls like bad guys? I’ve had this question for a real long time!”

Wow, a meme  _ and  _ a song he hated. Well done, Awsten.

He could drum along to this song in his sleep if he wanted to. He really didn’t want to, though. He’d prefer to never hear it again, to never have to think about that band and its asshole of a lead singer, everything he’d been put through.

He gasped as the beat dropped, his body forcing him to stop holding his breath. He struggled to keep himself from hyperventilating as his chest tightened, the rushing in his ears almost - but not quite - drowning out the music. “Turn it off,” he choked out, but no one could hear him over everyone who was singing along. 

“ _ God, do you even know what a drum is? Useless piece of shit.”  _ Ronnie’s words echoed around his head, and he clenched his fists so he wouldn’t break anything, the table in front of him or maybe his ears if he jammed his fingers into them too hard.  _ “Everyone can fucking sing, Ryan, go make yourself not sound like a garbage disposal!” _

In the back of the mind he knew the song had changed, but his brain still wouldn’t turn off. He forced himself to his feet, over to where Dallon was sat, engrossed more in his laptop than anything else. His legs felt like they were going to stop working any second, and he wondered if the others could tell. Could they see his chest moving too fast and his hands shaking, or did they have nothing on their minds except the next beat of the song?

He sat down next to Dallon, who briefly looked up at him. “Can we go for a walk?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. For some reason he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone other than his best friend knowing how much he was panicking. Maybe because Awsten was the ringleader in all of this, and he’d spent so many years expecting to be insulted by the man in charge. He could imagine it: “ _ Get it together, Ryan, it’s just a song! Everyone else is having fun. _ ”

“Oh, I was about to call Breezy…” Ryan glanced at Dallon’s screen to see it open on Facebook, his mouse over the video call button. Shit.

“No, it’s fine, you go do that,” he said hurriedly, moving so that Dallon could stand up and head to another room. He knew Dallon got homesick easily, he'd be an asshole if he stopped the other man from talking to his family.

The thoughts creeped back in quickly after his bandmate left, though. “ _ No one fucking likes you, Seaman. Even your own family doesn't come to the shows.”  _ Everybody had better things to do than care about him. Dallon had his family, and Waterparks had their bizarre sense of humour. 

He needed to get out of that goddamned dressing room.

He stood, and a second later a crew member was in front of him, dragging him over to the racks of clothes in the corner of the room. “You're on in thirty, man.” 

He took a deep breath. Pre-show prep - he’d been doing it for years, he could do it today too. He changed his shirt, balanced long enough to get into a smarter pair of trousers. His hair could survive another day without a wash, and the fans didn't care if he shaved or not. 

He grabbed some drumsticks and tapped them against a counter, a random beat he tried to match his heart rate with. The room blurred around him as he focused on warming up, the repetitive sounds drowning out the insults in his mind. 

He let himself be led to the stage, tapping on his thighs as he went. He swapped the drumsticks for a tambourine and stepped up onto his stool, focusing on no one face in particular. He knew the venue was smaller than what he’d been playing with Falling in Reverse, but the crowd seemed to stretch on forever.

He kept the tambourine beat steady as the crowd hushed, already under Dallon’s spell. He sat down without falling and hit the first beat of Choke in time with the backing track. He played on autopilot and ignored the shouting coming from his left, even though he knew they were just singing the lyrics back at the stage.

He opened his mouth to echo Dallon during the second verse and no words came out.

Stage fright at the worst of times. He'd always hated doing backing vocals, but Dallon had always made him feel good about it, like he could actually sing. Maybe because he sang his own songs now, or if he didn't, at least they were empowering. He'd rather yell along to You Can't Kill Us than any of the Falling in Reverse songs he contributed to. 

Ronnie was still in the back of his mind though, and he missed a beat, distracted by how disappointed Dallon and the fans must be right now. He'd never let his bandmate down before. This band was his whole world and he might’ve just fucked it up by freaking out over one damn song.

The rest of the set blurred by, and he was pretty sure he got the drumming right even if he didn't sing. He could feel Dallon's eyes on him but didn't look up to see what expression was on his face. 

He rushed off the stage as fast as he could after their set, straight past the dressing room, out of the fire escape and onto the bus. He didn't want to see anyone right now. The fans could cope with not meeting him after the show, he didn't want to hear them ask why he'd fucked up or if he was alright.

He curled up in his bunk and let the silence envelope him. It was much harder to ignore his thoughts now, so he stopped trying to control his breathing and let himself freak out, tears streaming down his cheeks and anguished sobs being muffled by his pillow.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there before his tears dried up, the adrenaline starting to run low. He couldn’t panic forever, although he was sure he could lay in his bunk feeling numb until they reached the next city. 

“Ryan?” A soft voice called out from down the bus. Shit, he hadn’t even closed the bunk curtain, let alone the door to the lounge area. “You alright?”

He turned his head to the side as Dallon came into view, slowly approaching the bunk like he was trying not to startle an injured animal. Ryan knew he must look like a mess right now, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He shuffled as far against the wall as possible, but forced himself to keep eye contact, knowing that hiding from the conversation wouldn’t make it any easier.

“What’s up with you tonight, man?” Dallon asked, a concerned look on his face. “Got no backing vocals from you, was your mic playing up?”

Ryan shook his head hesitantly. “I didn’t sing,” he whispered. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Dallon’s brow furrowed. 

“I’m so sorry, please don’t be mad,” Ryan said quickly, clutching his blanket close to his chest. If he had the energy he would be close to panicking again, as he prepared for Dallon to raise his voice. His bandmate had enough to worry about without Ryan fucking up, he knew he was a burden, good for nothing except keeping a beat for Dallon to play along to-

“Hey, Ry, why would I be mad? I’m just worried about you.”

The genuine concern in Dallon’s voice shocked Ryan out of his thoughts, and his eyes focused once more on Dallon’s, dark blue gazing back at him without a hint of anger. His best friend reached one hand out, and laid it carefully down millimetres from Ryan’s.

He stretched his fingers across the gap when he’d convinced himself Dallon was being truthful and grasped the calloused pads, holding on as the words he’d had in mind for hours now came spilling out. “I can’t stop thinking about him, I’m sorry, I promise I try my best and I’m sorry it’s not good enough, I was panicking so bad over a fucking song and all I could think was how he hated my singing so much.”

“Well, I think you’re just perfect, Ryan,” Dallon said, squeezing his hand tight around Ryan’s. “Wish you’d told me you were feeling bad, though, I wouldn’t have made you go out there and try to sing. You know we have backing tracks for that if we need.”

“I tried,” Ryan replied quietly. “Wanted to go on a walk so I could calm down. Or not freak out by myself, at least.”

Dallon’s face fell. “I’m sorry, if I’d realised how bad it was I would’ve gone with you. I thought you were just getting sick of the dressing room, y’know?”

“It’s alright.” Ryan said, and they fell into a comfortable silence for a minute or two. “Thank you,” he said eventually, pulling their joined hands close to his chest.

“Are you gonna let me touch your heart?” Dallon teased, and Ryan couldn’t help but laugh. Yeah, he’d let Dallon into his heart a long time ago; he just forgot how much his best friend cared sometimes, still overshadowed by years of pain. Dallon always understood though. “I’ll tell Awsten to keep it off his playlist, okay? Love you.”

He matched his breathing to Dallon’s and felt his heart rate return to something close to normal, thinking of nothing but how much his life had changed since Dallon invited him over to jam. No more yelling. Just kind words and ways around all of his insecurities. “I love you too.”


End file.
